Twenty-Three Double X
by jennytork
Summary: The tiny details are the ones that matter. One little chromosome and one decision change everything. Mary does not go straight to the nursery that fateful night. In the aftermath, she must protect her daughters.


(WARNING: One scene of offscreen, non-graphic sexual violence and its gory aftermath. Rufus is Rufus, after all.)

TWENTY THREE DOUBLE X

She sat at her tapestry, threading her golden needle with the beginning threads of this new life, when she heard words she had not heard in millenia.

"Atropos. Stop."

"Who _dares_ -" she began as she stood, whirling to face the speaker, only to have her rage quell as she sank back onto her stool. "...my apologies, Gardener."

He smiled, tilting his head in acknowledgment. "My apologies for the interruption, but a new pattern has been ordered for this tapestry."

She frowned. "But you know full well I only take orders from-"

"Yes."

Her eyes widened in realisation. "...Very well. What would He have me do?"

"He wishes for you to use your imagination. There are certain - plans - that have been put into motion. He wishes to show His erring children how this plan is flawed in a way that will prevent it from ever coming to pass."

Atropos hummed in thought. "Any particular guidelines I should follow?"

"Just this." His smile broadened. "He specifically said that certain prophecies should be taken - _very_ \- literally."

She turned back to the tapestry and studied it. She traced the paths back and the possibilities forward.

Then she began to grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief and mirth in equal measure as she tore out the threads she'd begun to load into the needle. She replaced them with others and began to sew, sending the paths in very different directions.

Her sisters frowned as Atropos worked. They hadn't heard her laugh like that in centuries!

She set one final twist into the threads and set them into place. Then she sat back and just smiled, turning to the Gardener with a lifted eyebrow.

His response was a serene smile and a nod before he vanished.

SPN 23XX SPN

November 2, 1983. Lawrence, Kansas.

The baby fussed as the nursery door opened. Mary Winchester walked in, carrying a blonde cherub in blue flannel PJ's. "There's our Sammy," she whispered, setting the child in her arms down. "Go say good-night."

The four year old clambered onto the crib and nearly toppled into it as a tender kiss was pressed to the infant's forehead. "Good night, Sammy."

"Good night, Sammy," a deep voice rumbled, and the child vaulted off the crib.

 _"DADDY!"_

John Winchester laughed as he lifted his child. "Hey, there, Sweetie. So what, you think Sammy's big enough to throw a baseball?"

"No," the child laughed.

"No," John agreed, kissing Mary as she touched his shoulder.

"You got her?" she whispered.

"I got her," John said. He walked out of the room, cradling the sleepy girl who now had her head resting on his shoulder. "C'mon, Deannie, time for bed."

Three hours later, Mary's sleep was interrupted by a sound from the baby monitor. "John," she mumbled, turning to find she was alone in the bed. "Hmph."

Sleepily, she wove her way down the hallway, arrested by the flickering hall light. She tapped it, frowning as she deliberately pushed the hunting lore to the back of her mind. This was more than likely that short John had been complaining about. She saw a man in the nursery and asked, "You got Sammy?"

"Ssshh," the man replied.

"Okay." Mary headed downstairs for a glass of water. At the bottom of the stairs, she heard a war movie playing. Confused, she stepped forward and saw her husband conked out asleep in the chair.

Adrenaline flared through her and suddenly she was wide awake. She raced forward and slammed her hands into John's shoulders from behind, toppling him awake and to his feet in one smooth motion. "Someone's in the nursery with Sammy," she hissed. "I thought it was you!"

John's sleepy confusion instantly turned to a furious soldier. He spared a second to give her hand a squeeze before he was tearing to the stairs and up them, with Mary right behind.

The creature had torn its wrist open and was placing it into position, cooing about it being better than mother's milk, when two hundred and five pounds of pissed-off father slammed into its side, knocking it from the crib.

Blood sprayed onto the wall, and Mary raced right to the crib and jerked the baby out, who began to wail with surprised indignation. She eased toward the door with her precious bundle as she watched her husband struggle with the creature. She was convinced now it wasn't human.

"Mommy?" came a confused voice from the hall and Mary raced into it.

She balanced Sammy in little Deanna's arms, and hissed, "Take your sister outside as fast as you can go! Don't look back! Now, Deannie, go!"

The girl spun and ran, and Mary went back to the doorway.

She saw horrible black smoke erupt from the creature and force its way down John's throat. She saw John go limp and then straighten. "Mary," he smiled, turning and smiling at her. "Give us a kiss."

He opened eyes that were golden yellow from corner to corner.

Mary screamed.

Out on the porch, Deanna was rocking the crying baby. "It's okay, Sammy...it'll be okay..."

Suddenly Mary vaulted from the doorway and scooped both of them up. She all but threw them into the front seat of the Impala before she slammed the door behind herself and started it up with trembling hands.

Deanna saw John's tall form walk onto the porch, and noticed his face was covered in blood. "Mommy," she said as Mary threw the car into gear. "Shouldn't we wait for Daddy?"

As Mary peeled down the driveway at full speed, she snarled, "That's not your father anymore, Deannie."

Mary's tears made the view in the rear view mirror waver as the home she had tried to make for herself and her daughters went up in a ball of flames.

SPN 23XX SPN

Lansing, Michigan – three days later.

The Impala pulled up outside a compound and Mary rolled down the window. She and the girls were still in their sleepwear, and she was running out of the diapers and formula that she had kept in the car.

Deanna, sleepy-eyed but militantly alert, reached from the back and stroked her hair.

Mary smiled at her in the mirror and waited. After a few minutes, a familiar voice snarled from the intercom, "Go away, Winchester. You're no blood of ours."

She rolled her eyes. She should have known they'd recognise the car. She leaned out the window and called, "It's me and the girls, Ed! We need help!"

"You can go away, too!"

Before Mary could retort, another voice growled, "For Heaven's sake, Ed, she's blood! Mary, where's John?"

"Gone," Mary said. "Please, Robert, we just have the clothes on our backs!"

The gate rumbled open, and she sighed, "Thank you!" As she drove through, she said to Deanna, "This is my family, Dee. We'll be okay here for a little bit. At the very least, we can get what we need for Sammy."

The girl nodded and returned to watching the baby sleep.

Mary sighed. She did miss Deanna's voice. Her little chatterbox had gone all but silent after the attack that had taken John from her.

As the men approached the car, Deanna's arms suddenly wound around her neck from behind. "Bad," she hissed. "Bad men!"

"I can handle them," Mary said, patting her arm. "Let's see if they can help."

Robert and Ed were brothers, and about as different as night and day. Robert had a son named Christian that was a little younger than Deanna, and Ed's baby Gwen was a few months older than Sammy. Robert brought the three inside, and they gave her clothes for the children. Mary herself got a load of clothing from Robert's wife.

But every time they were close, Deanna would hiss, "Bad," into Mary's ear. She just poked at the food they were given.

Mary told the four adults at the compound the unbelievable story. Ed groused that she'd asked for it, letting her training lapse like she had.

Ed's wife silenced him with a well-placed knee that left him groaning in the corner.

Robert asked, "And the blood went into her mouth?"

"I think it was trying to get it there," Mary said. "But I think John stopped it in time."

"You _think,"_ Robert said. "So there's a chance it could have."

"Yeah, but I doubt it," Mary said.

Robert nodded. "Okay. You and Deanna here head on out in the morning. Find a place and raise her in that normal you craved so bad. We'll keep an eye out for the creature that has John."

Mary stiffened. "Hold on, here. Deanna and me? What about Sammy?"

"We'll take care of it. Make sure that it never becomes a threat."

"Now hold on!" Mary roared.

Robert took her wrist. "Be sensible, Mary! Better to have one child than to let something monster-touched loose on the world!"

Mary jerked her hand away and wheeled her other hand around in a punch that knocked Robert from his chair. She gathered Sammy up into her arms and said, "Deannie, keep behind me."

"Mary!" Robert yelled.

"Sammy isn't a monster," Mary snarled. "You are!" And the three of them moved steadily back to the Impala.

When they were almost there, Ed's wife caught up with them. "You need help," she said. "You won't find it here – they're too black and white."

"I know," she sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Here." Ed's wife pressed an envelope into her hand. "Gift cards and credit cards and some cash. We were going to start a hunter's fund, but you need it more. You're family and you will always be, even if those knuckleheads can't see it."

Deanna came around and hugged her. "Good lady," she smiled into her eyes and then took Sammy from Mary and climbed into the Impala.

Mary hugged her as well. "Thanks, Melinda. I just wish-"

"Go," she interrupted. "Just go. And good luck."

Mary drove away from the Campbell compound without a word. She had no idea where she was going or what the future would hold.

But she knew she would never be back there.

SPN 23XX SPN

When the girls fell asleep in the Ohio motel room – in fresh clothing and with full bellies – Mary sat down with the pen and pad of paper that came with the motel and began to make a list of what they needed and where they might find help.

All Mary's friends were off-limits, now that her family had shut her out. She wondered if some of John's might help. She decided to try. She had nothing more to lose.

She tracked down John's old war buddy "Pastor Jim" – he was in Blue Earth, Minnesota. She dialed him collect and was shocked when he accepted the charge.

"Mary," were the first words out of his mouth, "I know. John was here – and it's not John anymore. I almost exorcised him, but he got away. You're not safe if you come here."

She felt her shoulders sag as the weight of the world suddenly crashed down onto her. "Then where? Where can we go?"

"There might be a place...I will call ahead and give you a good word. Good luck, Mary. And God be with you."

Three days later, the Impala rumbled into a salvage yard in South Dakota. When the owner walked onto his porch with a shotgun cradled in his arms, Mary decided it wasn't safe for her girls here and reached for the gearshift.

Deanna leaned over the seat and touched her shoulder. "Good man," she whispered in Mary's ear.

By now, there had been so many of those whispers that Mary knew to listen. Somehow, her oldest just knew. And it was never in regards to either of them.

No, Deanna seemed to know when people were going to be good or bad to Sammy. And she was positive this rough-looking man would not harm 'her' baby.

Mary turned off the car and slowly opened the door. She got out, with her hands where the man could see her. "I've got two children in the car," she said by way of hello. "Jim said he'd call?"

"If you're who you say you are," he replied, "you'll understand what I mean when I say you got some tests to pass."

She nodded. "I do understand. Now?"

"Good a time as any." He gestured and she walked closer. He tested her with silver and holy water, then he uncocked the gun and nodded. "Best bring those girls in 'fore they catch cold. Name's Bobby Singer. And you're safe with me."

SPN 23XX SPN

Bobby's words proved prophetic. The Winchester girls were safe with him. The thing that had taken John couldn't cross any of the wards, and they were secure.

Somehow, without any of them really realising it was happening, days turned to weeks to months to years. Mary settled in, working as the Salvage Yard's secretary and Bobby's second-in-command with research and phone work.

Deanna and Sammy grew into independent, headstrong children. Mary never shielded them from what was out there, but she taught them they were safe here and that it was people like them who kept the rest of the people safe as well. And she also did not take them on hunts – even local ones – until they were old enough and strong enough to hold their own.

Sam always despised her given name of 'Samantha', especially because Deanna used it as a jibe, and insisted on being called simply 'Sam' or 'Sammy-with-a-y-not-an-i.' It took Mary a few weeks of hearing this before the story behind it came out – Sam would rather have a 'y' on the end of her name because when Deanna was teaching her her letters (at Sammy's insistence at a ridiculously young age) she had taught her little sister to stab her pencil down onto the paper – like a knife - to make the dot on the 'i' legible.

Sam had a natural gift for blades, but she would rather not stab anything when she was writing her name.

Mary hadn't known whether to be amused or upset.

And then there was the time when she was called into Deanna's fifth grade classroom and asked by the teacher how her daughter pronounced her name. Mary asked her what she'd been told, and she replied that Deanna had told her to pronounce her name "DEAN-uh", not "Dee-AN-nuh" – saying that the second N was silent.

Mary considered for a minute, then smiled and told her that was the way to say Deanna's name.

The smile on her oldest's face when Mary used the altered pronunciation that night was worth it all.

Over the years, what the Campbells had told her preyed on Mary's mind. Rufus Turner, a frequent visitor, finally noticed the cloud over her head and sat her down with a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue and a listening ear. When he heard the story, he nodded. "I got a way to find out. I'll need a small sample of her blood to be sure – about that much." He held his fingers about a quarter-inch apart. "Then we'll know for certain."

"How -" she began, and he held up a hand.

"Methods that are best not to know about. But they're accurate and they will tell us for sure if her blood's tainted by that demon." Rufus sat back. "Saw John's meatsuit a few weeks ago. He's got one hell of a scar runnin' down his face. Was that you?"

"Hit him with the fireplace poker and salt. Surprised him enough I was able to get away." She took a sip. "Surprised the demon didn't just heal it."

"Maybe it tried. Maybe John's got just enough of an influence over it that it scarred and now it remembers you every time it sees it." Rufus grinned. "After all, there's a reason he's been leavin' you alone. I prefer to think that reason's John's love for you and the girls."

"You mean you think he's protecting us?"

"Or the demon's waiting for something. Biding his time. Maybe it's a bit of both."

Mary sighed and leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes. "I just want my girls to be okay."

When she didn't move or speak for a long time after that, Rufus gently eased the tumbler from her hand before it hit the ground. Then he covered Mary with a quilt and went to talk to Bobby.

Rufus left the Salvage Yard the next morning with a small phial of Sam's blood.

The phone call came a week later. "She's clean."

Mary cried for a long time that night – from sheer relief.

SPN 23XX SPN

Over the years, Sam idolised her big sister and wanted to be like her, even as her interests drew her more into academia. By the age of 16, Deanna was working hard at Singer Salvage and going on hunts with her family on the side. Sam's talents seems to be more in the realm of research, and she was often the silent partner on the phone, supplying the final links in the chain of evidence.

By sixteen, Deanna's beauty and intelligence had earned her lots of male attention, and she went on date after date after date. That lasted until her senior prom, when she came home so late that the house had gone to bed. Nobody worried – it was prom, after all!

A small sound woke Sam, who peered into the darkness and saw the clock said three AM. She heard it again and got out of bed, padding to the bathroom she shared with her sister. What she saw would change everything.

Deanna sat in the bathtub, curled into a very small ball with the shower beating down on her back hot enough to turn it red. Her entire body was shaking with the force of repressed sobbing – the sound Sam had heard. Her torn dress lay half on the floor and half in the trash can.

Not knowing what to do, Sam eased out of the bathroom and padded down the hallway. She woke Mary and told her what she'd seen, and Mary ran to the bathroom while Sam went down the hall again, woke Bobby and told him what she'd seen, adding she didn't know what to do.

"Be there for your sister," Bobby told her. "Don't push her to talk. And don't worry about her date. It'll be taken care of." At her stricken look, he patted her hand. "Not talkin' about killin', Princess. Get your butt back to bed and let your momma handle Dee."

After that, Deanna kept up her flirting with boys, though she never wore a dress outside of undercover again. But Sam didn't recall her ever going on another date. The incident also soured Sam on boys and dating in general.

As for who had hurt Deanna so badly? Mary and Bobby both promised they wouldn't harm him, though both confronted him. When he said she had been asking for it, Bobby punched him and they left the house.

Two months later, the boy arrived at the emergency room in Fargo, North Dakota, covered in blood and bruises. The doctors found a note in his pocket that read in huge block letters "This man hurt women for fun. He will no longer." It was signed with "Blood Avenger" in Hebrew letters.

Upon further examination, the doctors found the teenager had been castrated.

As he walked away from the hospital where he'd dropped the punk, Rufus Turner dropped the bag containing bloody gloves, knives and certain body parts into the dumpster. He drove to the next town over and dialed Sioux Falls once he was in his room. "It's done."

"So were we right?" Bobby asked. "Was he possessed?"

"Nope. Just evil to his core."

Bobby sighed.

"How's she doin'?" Rufus asked.

Bobby sighed again.

"You tell her Uncle Rufus is bringin' her somethin' for Hanukkah."

"She don't celebrate Hanukkah."

"Indulge me." And he hung up, grinning at Bobby's splutter.

Yes, he was going to sleep well tonight.

SPN 23XX SPN

Time passed, as it tended to do, and the weird amulet that Rufus found somewhere and Sam insisted on helping present to Deanna never left her neck. She shortened the cord twice, after the heavy brass smashed her front teeth enough to have to have caps, but never took it off. Even in the shower.

Mary wouldn't let Deanna drop out of school, no matter how much she begged. Even though she didn't graduate with honours like Sam did, she did graduate. Bobby immediately got her enrolled in a mechanics vocational course, so she could safely work with him and have a nice certificate framed on the wall for the customers to see and stop asking if the "little girl" was qualified.

When Sam brought home the paperwork that said she got a full ride to Stanford, Bobby and Mary sat her down and went over all the pros and cons of going that far away from the family. They showed her how living a normal life was still possible, so long as precautions were taken and she didn't let her training lapse.

The family didn't leave her alone there until they felt Sam was as secure as they could make her. Even then, she practically had to toss Deanna out of her dorm. "I'm _fine. Go._ I'll _call."_

The sisters kept in touch over the next three years, then Sam's calls began to get further and further apart. Still, Deanna assumed she was just busy.

Until weather phenomena started kicking up around California in late 2005. In all the research Bobby and Mary had done on demons – to try to find a way to keep the girls safe from the yellow-eyed bastard that was riding John – they had learned that these things were indications that it was kicking up again.

And it was too close to Sam for anybody's liking.

Bobby was closing the Salvage Yard for the night when Mary made a satisfied noise and turned from her computer, calling for Deanna, who yelled back that she'd be there in a second. Bobby dropped ino a chair beside her desk and mused, "You look profoundly satisfied with yourself."

"I am." Deanna walked round the corner, and Mary snorted. "What happened? Did you get into a fight with the grease gun?"

Deanna shrugged. "More like a fight with a stubbourn carbeurator. I won," she grinned. "So what's up?" She moved to sit down in a second chair by the desk.

"Uh- _uh,"_ Mary said. "No sitting till you've showered and burned those coveralls." Once her daughter was fully standing again, she said, "I've got a job for you, Dee."

"Sure, what?"

Mary met her eyes. "I need you to go to your sister. The signs are tightening around Palo Alto. I'd feel better if you took her to one of the safe houses for Halloween through the third."

Deanna nodded. "I'll leave tonight. What about you?"

"I have to make a side trip to Colorado. Don't ask me why yet – just know I'll be safe." She stood and kissed her oldest's forehead. "Go get cleaned up. I'll make burgers."

Deanna grinned and jogged to the house from the office building.

Mary's smile faded. "Go with her, Bob. She'll need backup."

He didn't move. "Not like you to keep secrets. What's up?"

She turned to face her friend and sighed. "I found a trail that might lead to a way to beat that yellow-eyed son of a bitch once and for all." She held up a hand. _"Might._ I'm gonna run down the trail a bit, see where it goes. I'll call when I know anything, good or bad. I just..." She wrapped her arms around herself. "I didn't want to get her hopes up, you know?"

Bobby stood and hugged her, brushing a brotherly kiss to the top of her head. "Go make those burgers. I'll ride on ahead, get the safe house ready. We got work to do."

SPN 23XX SPN

Deanna got to Palo Alto so late at night that she decided to make herself comfortable on the couch and surprise Sam when she woke up. So she slipped a window open and let herself into the apartment.

She was almost to the couch when she was spun around and struck. Staggered, she nonetheless recognised the Winchester punch and gasped, "Whoa, easy there, Tiger! It's me!"

There was a moment of silence, then she heard the gasped, "Dee? What are you doing here?"

"Well," Deanna couldn't resist. "I _was_ lookin' for a beer—"

"Sam?" The light came on, revealing a tall blonde in sleep shorts. "What's going on?"

"Jess," Sam sighed and Deanna checked her sister over. She had grown at least two inches – the brat – but she looked thin and exhausted. "This... This is Deanna."

"Deanna?" Jess smiled. "Your _sister,_ Deanna?"

Deanna smiled, looking between the two of them. Jess looked happy to see her, but Sam looked – ready to bolt. "Hey, it's nice to meet you, but I need to borrow your – uh..."

"Girlfriend," Jess supplied.

Sam's head snapped up. "No! Jess! Dee, we're just roommates, that's all!"

Jess shrugged. "Not for lack of trying..."

Sam rolled her eyes, and Deanna's smile had dropped. She suddenly wasn't sure about this Jess. An old sense in the back of her mind was screaming _Bad! Bad lady!_

Jess plowed on, "And whatever you have to say, Deanna, it can be said in front of me. Sam and I have no secrets."

"All right." Deanna licked her lips, then tilted her chin slightly up and met Sam's eyes. "Mom sent me to collect you. Uncle Bobby's got a house ready for us to go to ground till the third."

Sam nodded and turned toward the bedroom, only to have Jess catch her arm. "Sammy, we've talked about this..."

"This is family business, Jess," she shot back. "I-"

"You have an interview on Monday. It's your future on a plate and we've worked too hard to let your family tear you away from this."

"Interview?" Deanna asked.

"Not your business," Jess shot.

Deanna felt her adrenaline start to run. "It involves Sammy, it's my business."

"See?" Jess said. "That's exactly what Doctor Masters and I have talked about, Sammy. That kind of control isn't good for you. Especially when paired with that fantasy world you grew up in..."

Deanna was shocked into silence for a second, which gave Sam time to state, "But you're controlling me right now." She looked pointedly at the hand on her arm.

Jess smiled and slid her hand to Sam's shoulder. "I'm _lovingly guiding_ you, Sammy. There's a difference."

Sam smiled. "Yeah...there is." She drew close, pulling Jess in for a hug.

Deanna opened her mouth to argue, but then found herself grinning as Sam broke the hug and shifted her position to slam Jess into the wall, sending her sagging unconscious to the ground.

Sam turned to Deanna. "What do I need to take?"

"Still got your emergency duffel?"

"No, she unpacked it and wouldn't let me repack it."

Deanna nodded. "Repack it. Quickly. I'll take care of Sleeping Idjit here."

Sam came back into the room carrying a packed pair of duffels to see a waking Jess struggling weakly against the ropes Deanna had tied her to the chair with. "I'm ready."

Deanna nodded. As they walked to the Impala, she asked, "Doctor Masters?"

"Yeah. Meg Masters. She's a psychiatrist that Jess insisted I started seeing last year to combat my 'fantasy life' that I grew up in." She leaned against the seat as Deanna started the car. "I just... I shouldn't have told her anything."

"Well, we can't change the past." Deanna pulled away and said softly, "I'm guessin' that's the reason your calls got sporadic and cryptic."

"Yeah. Jess was always there and I couldn't..." She sighed. "I'm really glad to see you, Dee. I was starting to doubt my own sanity, there."

"So, what was that interview about?" Deanna asked a little down the road.

"Law school," Sam sighed.

 _"Law_ school?" Deanna gasped. "I thought you were majoring in history!"

"I am," she said, leaning her head against the glass. "Minoring in law with an emphasis on law enforcement. But Jess was so insistent that history didn't make money... Dee, what is wrong with just wanting to _learn?_ Why does everything have to be money? Why can't I just learn for the sheer love of learning?"

"Then you learn," Deanna said firmly. "Do you want to make that appointment?"

Sam thought about it for a minute, then whispered, "No."

"Then skip it," Deanna said. "And go back to learning just for the sake of learning. You love that most of all, anyway. My brainy sister," she ended with a fond smile.

Sam returned the smile, then grabbed Deanna's phone as it began to ring. She put it on speaker. "Hey, Uncle Bobby!"

 _"Good to hear your voice, kiddo,"_ Bobby's voice said from the speaker. _"You're together, then. How far out are you?"_

"About fifteen or twenty minutes," Deanna replied. "Why?"

 _"Your momma just called. Said she's in California, about ten minutes out. Didn't make to Colorado, she said. She was met before she got out of South Dakota. Said she has what she needs – whatever that is – and will be here within the hour. And...And she said she was jumped by a demon - and she killed it."_

"Wait," Sam said, frowning. "...Mom _killed_ a demon? I thought they could just be exorcised!"

 _"Far as I know, outside of legend, they can't be killed. But that was what she said she did. I don't know what to-"_

Sam's hand spasmed around the phone, cutting off the call, and Deanna swore as she slammed on the brakes as two figures were suddenly illuminated by the headlights.

They sat there, the engine idling, while their hearts stopped pounding. The man and the woman just stood there, side by side, as if waiting. The girls couldn't see their faces plainly. Sam surreptitiously hit 'last call' and when she heard it pick up, she hissed, "We're not alone. Get here." And she hung up.

A deep man's voice growled, "Deannie...Sammy...come out and play."

"Stay put, Sammy," Deanna hissed.

"I am," she hissed back.

For five minutes, they stayed put as the man taunted and the sky lightened as the sun began to rise. But when the lightening sky revealed their features, both girls gasped.

The tall man with black hair had a jagged scar down the left side of his face, and his eyes were gold from corner to corner. The woman standing beside him had wide blue eyes and a cold smirk under her pixie blonde haircut.

"...it's the bastard," Deanna whispered.

"...and it's Doctor Masters," Sam gasped.

"What?" Deanna gasped, looking at her sister. "... _that_ is your psychiatrist?"

Sam nodded, her eyes wide and stunned and fixed on the woman. "She tried to get me to think I was insane...she denied everything I know to be true...and she's working with _him?"_

Deanna had had enough. She made sure she had her gun with her and opened the car door. "Hey! You! What in the _ihell/i_ were you doin' to my sister?"

Masters smiled at the thing wearing John Winchester. "I think you've been dismissed."

It chuckled. "No matter." When Sam emerged from the car, it said, "There you are. My favourite one."

"Answer my sister," Sam growled as a car engine became audible. "Answer her!"

"Okay," Masters purred in a strange sing-song tone. "I was doing to her...what I was told to." A blink, and her eyes turned black from corner to corner.

A welcome voice barked from the other side of the pair. "So you're in league with the yellow-eyed bastard."

The thing in question slowly turned to face Bobby, who was getting out of the car that had just pulled up. "More than in league, Singer. She's my daughter. And that demon your precious Mary killed in Jericho? That was my boy."

Sam hissed, "Mom really _did_ kill a demon then?"

"Sure sounds like it," Deanna whispered back.

"Anyway," the yellow-eyed thing smiled. "I'm tired of playing games. Sammy here? Belongs to me, since she was six months old. Better than mother's milk, poured into your mouth, coursing through your veins. Making you strong."

"Wrong," came from Bobby's car. To the Winchester's surprise, their mother got out of the front seat. "Not one drop of your filthy blood went into her. Sammy's clean."

"Nice try," the creature laughed. "And it's good to see you. Give me a kiss, sweetheart."

"It's not a try," Bobby said. "It's the truth."

"The truth?" Masters laughed. "You really expect us to believe that plans that have been in place for decades – centuries – can be derailed here and now?"

"Yes," Mary said. "Because Sam's blood is clean. Because the precious Gates of Hell you seem to be hell-bent on opening will never be opened."

"How does she know about that?" Masters hissed.

"Demons talk," Bobby said. "Just takes a little bit of pressure and they spill their guts. We know about the death matches of your 'special kids'. We know that you've been trying to get your hands on a special Colt that will open the Gates of Hell. Why, we don't know – but that doesn't matter now."

"See," Mary said, holding up a holster. "We have the gun."

The sisters looked at each other and edged around to stand with their mother and Bobby.

"Give me that," the yellow-eyed demon snarled, and both tugged at it telekinetically.

Mary released the holster, which flew into Masters' hands. She grinned, then frowned. "It's empty!"

Mary moved to the car and retrieved a long-barreled Colt. "This is the magic gun," she told her girls. "This gun's barrel is supposed to fit into a keyhole and open the gates of hell. Only now..." She slammed the gun on the bumper and a bit of the barrel fell off.

"NO!" Masters screamed. "What did you _do?"_

Mary smirked and did it again, and more of the barrel fell. "Sawed it down. In bits too small to fit into the hole. All we needed to do was the final break and now..." A third time, and she held a snub-nosed gun. "It's done."

The yellow-eyed demon laughed. "You think you're so smart, Mare. You've not a hint of how deep this runs."

"No," she said. " And you know what? _I don't care._ You tried to hurt my baby. You took my husband from me. You targeted my family. Well, guess what?" She brought her hand up. "You targeted the _iwrong/i_ family, bastard."

She fired a single bullet.

Masters screamed as the bullet – from the magic Colt – plowed into the forehead of what used to be John Winchester. She wailed as the skeleton lit with arcane fire and what used to be her father died before her eyes.

She didn't have time to do more. A second blast from the gun and she followed her demonic sire into oblivion.

Mary gasped and sank to her knees. "...it's over," she whispered, dropping the gun beside her legs. "...oh my God, it's finally over..."

Deanna wrapped her arms around her mother's shoulders and kissed her temple. "It's done. You did it, Mom. You did it!"

Sam hugged her after Deanna let go. "Thank you," she whispered. "But...w-were they right? Did they..."

"No," Mary said, stroking her cheek and pushing her hair behind her ear. "No, they didn't. They did try, yes. But that was the last act as himself your father ever did – he knocked the blood onto the wall. Nothing went into you. You are now and always have been clean."

Sam held her tightly and whispered, "Do I have to go back to school?"

Frowning, Mary looked over at Deanna, who sighed. "We've got a story to tell you and it's not good."

"Can't wait to hear this," Mary and Bobby mumbled in unison.

SPN 23XX SPN

Sam did end up returning to Stanford after that fateful weekend, though Deanna went with her. Together, they moved her out of Jess's apartment and into one closer to the history department, where Sam finished her school career happily soaking up knowledge of anything and everything she could get her hands on.

She always had thrived with her older sister watching over her, after all.

Once she graduated, Sam returned to Sioux Falls and moved into a house on Bobby's property with Deanna, who returned to working at the Salvage Yard's garage. Together, the sisters streamlined and strengthened Bobby's massive library of arcane knowledge and they eventually became The Go-To Team for hunters and scholars alike.

Neither sister ever married or had children, and that branch of the Winchester line died out with Deanna and Samantha.

To the rage of watchers in Heaven and Hell alike.

Hell would spend decades in civil war to decide the successor to what the yellow-eyed demon had begun.

So a small contigent of angels who had been working with the yellow-eyed demon's faction knew that they had to act, or centuries of plans would come to nothing. They wanted the Apocalypse to happen, after all – and the prophecies to trigger it wove in and around the family name Winchester.

Only one Archangel wasn't surprised that the plans fell through with these two sisters. The threads of prophecy were all pulling round John and Mary's children, to make them the ones Michael and Lucifer would possess at the end of days.

"Except," this Archangel laughed to himself, "those mooks didn't take into account that specific bit that says 'as in Heaven, so on earth'. It has to be two brothers – and those two are girls." He fired a kernel of candy corn into his mouth and quipped, "Can't have a brother-versus-brother war with sisters, now can you?"

But one particularly slimy angel found a loophole. John Winchester's father was stuck in a time travel corridor, being pursued by a Knight of Hell wearing his best friend's form. So this angel - Zachariah by name – reached into that time travel corridor and pulled both Henry Winchester and his pursuer from the tunnel into an angelic green room.

When she realised where she was, the Knight of Hell – Abaddon – screamed one of her sonic screams and tried to break a doorway into the wall. When that didn't work, she turned to vent her rage on Henry.

Only to find two angels blocking her way. "Move, Feathers," she growled at them.

One of them smiled blandly and said simply, "Henry Winchester, shut your eyes." When Henry did, he touched her forehead. "Goodbye, Abaddon."

She screamed as she was forcibly jerked from the body and sent crashing into the deepest level of Hell, coming to rest next to Lucifer's cage.

"Henry Winchester," the angel said, turning to him, "it is safe to look." Henry lowered his hands, and the angel smiled. "I am Michael," he introduced himself. "And you are now safe. You will be returned home, though much time has passed. This is Castiel," and the second angel came forward, nodding. "He shall get you established. Have you the box?"

Henry nodded.

"You shall be taken to certain co-ordinates," Michael said, "and Castiel shall supply you with what you shall need to re-establish the Men of Letters."

"What... What proof of this have you to give?" Henry gasped. "H-How do I know this is real?"

"I give this proof." Michael reached down and assisted Abaddon's former host to her feet, cleaning her of gore and healing her with a wave of his hand. "I return to you your best friend."

Henry's eyes widened. "...J-Josie?"

She let out a sob and raced to his arms. "I'm sorry, I couldn't let her kill you, I couldn't let you die..."

He kissed her temple as he rocked her. "It's okay...it'll be okay." He looked up at Michael. "How can we ever repay you?"

Michael smiled. "Be fruitful and multiply." And with a wave of his hand – they were dismissed.

SPN 23XX SPN

It didn't take Henry and Josie very long to turn to each other, being strangers in a strange world who had each other to lean on. With Castiel's help, they had the Men of Letters up and running again as a force for knowledge within a decade.

At the end of that decade, they had also wed and had a son. Josie was pregnant with their second child when they found another fledgling Man of Letters style organisation growing in South Dakota. They joined forces with that female Winchester-led group and always marveled at the co-incidence of the names.

Henry never knew these were his granddaughters.

All of Heaven and Hell seemed to hold their breath when Josie went into labour. One brother was born. And now it seemed the time for the Lucifer-vessel to arrive.

As it was in Heaven... so it would be one Earth.

Josie smiled warmly as she first held her newborn second child and smiled deeply – into her daughter's eyes.

It would not be this generation of Winchesters, either.

And on and on it went. Each new generation to be born had just two children – either two girls, or a boy and a girl with the boy always born first. Never again did a Winchester line have two sons.

For generation after generation, Heaven and Hell remained frustrated.

And a Gardener and a Fate shared warm smiles every time Atropos loaded a second X onto a twenty-third chromosomal pair.

END


End file.
